


i had all (and then most of you, some, and now none) of you

by gilligankane



Series: Vanity Fest, 2018 [2]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: She takes the bottle and tucks it under her arm, leaving the glass behind on the table.One day of this. One day of drowning her sorrows at the bottom of a few bottles of wine, and then she’ll be done. One day is what she’ll give herself to bleed Vanessa Woodfield and all of the sunshine and all of the smiles and all of the sodding touches out of her body.One day, and then she’ll forget about Vanessa the way Vanessa has forgotten about her.





	1. talking like a stranger

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 2 and 4 of Vanity Fest - Tropes and Angst.
> 
> Part 2 will be posted tomorrow!

**_talking like a stranger_ **

Vanessa’s hand is silk, skimming along her coiled muscles, tight with tension she hasn’t yet managed to let go. The touch helps - it always does - and she feels herself sinking back into Vanessa as Vanessa’s hand slips down her arm and over her hip, fingers splayed out across the dress she spent too much money on _not_ to have a gorgeous woman take it off her.

“I’m headed to the washroom, and then we’ll…”

“Head home?” Charity finishes. She turns her head, her lips brushing against Vanessa’s temple. “Best idea I’ve heard all night.”

Vanessa purses her lips, forehead wrinkling. “Not sure if that’s a compliment,” she murmurs.

Charity pushes down the urge she has to reach out and smooth the lines out, covering Vanessa’s hand with her own instead. “Oh, it is. For you.” Charity smirks, one side of her mouth curling up. “Sam isn’t the brightest businessman we Dingles have, is he?”

Vanessa’s fingertips pinch at her hip and Charity yelps. Debbie and Joe both turn and Noah catches her eyes, barely hiding the teenage-embarrassment rising high in his cheeks. Charity tips her flute of champagne in Joe’s direction and he returns the gesture slowly. Kim Tate is floating around the party still, and Joe is still playing the ever-faithful step-grandson.

“Have I said how hot you look in that dress?” Vanessa breathes into her ear.

Charity shifts her weight, just barely. Her dress slides against Vanessa’s, their hips moving together as they sway softly. “I’ve been told I never look anything but.”

Vanessa laughs softly. “Right. You’re fishing for another compliment, lady.” Vanessa’s hand tightens again, more pressure than pinch. “Get through the next few minutes without me and I’ll show you _exactly_ how hot you look.”

“It’s this dress,” Charity says, looking at the bright red fabric, splitting just above her knee.

“I meant coming out of it.” Vanessa’s lips catches the side of her mouth as she slips around Charity and across the shining floors of Home Farm. She looks over her shoulder at Charity, pausing at the staircase. Charity looks past her, at Cain coming down them with Moira on his arm, and then back at Vanessa. Vanessa wiggles her fingers in Charity’s direction and follows it with a smile that stretches across her face.

_I love her_ , Charity thinks.

Vanessa turns, careful not to catch her dress under her feet, and starts up the stairs.

_She_ _loves_ _me_ , Charity thinks.

Vanessa is halfway up the stairs when she looks back again, the smile sliding off her face in a slow pitch. She catches Charity’s eye across the room, her forehead knitting in confusion before it blossoms into fear. The staircase, grand and glittering, gives an almighty groan. Cain stops on the top step, his face souring, and then he’s jumping back onto the landing, pulling Moira with him. The staircase heaves again and Vanessa pitches forward, her forehead catching the solid wooden banister with a sharp _pop_ that Charity realizes too late is her champagne flute bursting in her hand.

Somewhere in the house, Charity can hear the ghost of Kim Tate cackling, her master plan coming together after a year in the ground.

Vanessa screaming _Charity_ as the step she’s standing on cracks drowns it all out.

 

-

“I don’t want your flaming coffee,” Charity growls at Pete as he tries to push another takeaway cup into her hand. She’s careful not to wake Noah, sleeping in the hard, plastic chair beside her. He’s using his jacket as a pillow, Vanessa’s handbag clutched in his hands, under his chin. Ryan is next to him, tapping away at his phone, giving Irene updates.

Pete sighs quietly, the sound falling deaf on Charity’s ears. “I’m only following orders,” he says gently. “Rhona says-”

“If Rhona says to round up a pasture of sheep and drive them off a cliff, would you?” Charity spits.

Pete frowns. “Well, the first part of that is me job.”

Charity ignores him. “This is ridiculous,” she hisses. She stands up, pushing Pete’s enormous suit jacket off her shoulders onto the floor. “There has to be an update.”

Tracy slips up next to her, a cool hand on her elbow. “They said they’d let us know.”

“It’s been-”

“Vanessa Woodfield?”

Charity’s vision blurs as she turns too quickly. Pete is behind her, steadying her, Rhona at his side. Tracy is pressed into her arm, fingernails digging into her bare skin. Frank and Megan are somewhere behind Tracy, holding onto each other. Noah is still sleeping, but he shifts in the chair, mouth hanging open as he snores softly.

“Yes?” she asks impatiently when the doctor doesn’t speak.

The doctor peers down at the file in his hands, looking back up and scanning the crowd in front of him. “Tracy Metcalfe?”

“It’s Shankley, now,” Tracy says, stepping forward. “But that’s me, yeah.”

The doctor angles his body towards Tracy, his voice dropping low. “Your sister is-”

“Speak up,” Charity says, her fingers curling in. She can feel her fingernails cutting into her palm, but she barely feels the sting.

“Yeah, speak up,” Ryan echoes.

The doctor scowls at them both.

“She’s family,” Tracy says, pulling Charity up alongside her. “She’s Vanessa’s girlfriend.”

“Right,” the doctor says. He clears his throat and adjusts the glasses at the end of his nose. “Ms. Woodfield has suffered a severe head trauma. In addition to the rather large laceration across her forehead, we discovered a bit of bleeding in the left frontal temporal lobe.”

Charity chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “What does it mean, though?” she finally asks, the words bursting out of her mouth like a balloon letting out air.

“We’re going to have to wait and see,” the doctor says slowly. “At best, it’s possible she could wake up with a large headache.”

“At worst?” Rhona asks from somewhere over Charity’s shoulder.

“At worst,” the doctor repeats. “At it’s worse, there’s a chance of permanent damage. Loss of speech, loss of language categorization… Loss of memory.”

Something cold rushes through Charity’s chest, stealing the air from her lungs. “Memory loss,” she says.

“We’ll know more when she wakes up.” The doctor finally meets her eyes, giving her a sad smile. “I’m afraid waiting is all we can do.”

“Mum?”

Charity looks back. Noah is sitting up, rubbing at his eyes. Vanessa’s handbag is in his lap and he picks it up carefully, winding the long, thin strap around the clutch.

Vanessa’s handbag.

It had ended up on the floor across the room, right at Noah’s feet. Charity hadn’t given it a second thought, but Noah had kept watch over it for most of the night, gripping it tightly as the medics arrived and loaded Vanessa onto a stretcher; refusing to let it go when Ryan and Tracy bundled him into the car to follow the ambulance; curling his body around it when Charity worked her hands through his hair like she used to when he was younger, putting him to sleep.

He holds it like a shield, now. Ready to defend himself against the truth.

“Is there news?”

“Oh, babe,” Charity whispers. She shoulders Pete out of her way and sits down at Noah’s side, welcoming his warmth when he leans into her. “We just have to keep waiting. She’s still not woken up yet.” She lets her hand drift to the back of his head, mussing the strands of hair against the back of his neck. It’s getting long now, starting to curl up at the ends.

_Too long,_ Vanessa had said just last week. _Reckon he’s growing it out like Ryan’s?_

“I want you and your brother to head home and-”

Noah shakes his head quickly. “I’m going nowhere,” he says firmly.

“Babe.”

“No,” he repeats. “What if she wakes up and she’s alone?”

Charity feels a lump building in her throat but she swallows hard past it. “She won’t be alone. She’ll have everyone here, yeah?”

“But she won’t have _us_ ,” Noah says, his eyes wide and wet. “We’re her family, too.”

The lump grows and she can’t fight it off this time. Her voice cracks when she speaks. “Of course she is, babe.” She kisses the top of his head. “Of course she is.”

Rhona slips forward, Pete’s jacket over her arm. “We’re going to go get the boys,” she says quietly. “Ross has all three and we-”

Charity waves her off. “Go on. I’ll, uh, call. If anything changes.”

Rhona gives her a softer smile than she probably deserves, reaching out and squeezing Charity’s shoulder carefully. “It’s Vanessa, yeah? She comes up roses every time.”

“Let’s hope so,” Charity whispers, blinking back something pressing hot against her eyes.

Ryan sinks down into the seat on Charity’s other side, adjusting the formal wear baseball cap he’d picked out with Vanessa - a black cap with a brother, leather bill.

“What’re you doing?” Charity asks. “You best be getting home to Irene. Tell her-”

“I’m staying,” Ryan says. He folds his arms over his chest, giving her that smirk she sees too often in the mirror. “Like Noah said. She’s family.”

“She’s family,” Charity echoes.

Frank sits back down, his arm along the back of Megan’s seat. Megan crosses her legs, one over the other, but when she catches Charity’s eyes, her own are rimmed in red and her mascara is smudged. Tracy sits on Ryan’s other side, picking his phone out of his hands and pulling up a game they both get involved in.

“She’s family,” Frank says when Charity looks his way.

Charity nods, the words she wants to say catching in her throat. Noah presses closer to her, Vanessa’s handbag stuck between them uncomfortable.

“Right,” she finally manages. “Family.”

 

-

“Charity,” someone whispers. “Get up.”

“Go away, Sherk,” Charity groans. “I’ve not entered your swamp.”

Moira snorts. “I should hope not. Bit mucky. Never thought of you as a farm-type.”

Charity scowls, opening one to glare at Moira. “Then get back, would you?” Her whole body is tight, cramped over in the same position she fell asleep in. She blinks. The hospital. She’s in the hospital. Vanessa is-

“Vanessa’s awake,” Moira says slowly. She holds up her hands quickly. “But we need to talk, first.”

“Not a chance,” Charity hisses.

She pushes off the hard, plastic seat and sways, unsteady on her feet. It takes another moment before the feeling in her toes comes back, but she wiggles them until they feel like they’re beneath her. Vanessa’s room is through the double doors and down the hall; she’d been there last night when they wheeled Vanessa in, before they pushed her into the hallway and left her there, watching them work through the sliding door. There had been shouting and beeping and Charity felt her knees give out. She’d expected to hit the floor, but Pete had caught her easily, moving her back to the waiting room where everyone was filling up the seats, asking her questions she couldn’t answer.

_What happened? Where is she? What’s wrong?_

Noah and Ryan had been her only grounding force against the barrage of voices and Pete had pushed the first of many cups of coffee into her hand.

There’s a small crowd by the door of Vanessa’s room and Charity feels her pulse quicken. Her hands feel clammy and her chest feels tight, but Vanessa is awake and Charity’s finally able to draw in a breath. Each step closer puts the ground under her feet just a bit more solidly.

_Vanessa’s awake. Vanessa’s awake._

“Mum,” Noah says. He steps in her way, his eyes clouded.

“She’s awake,” Charity says, grinning. She grabs Noah by the shoulders and pulls him in, hugging him tightly. “Hard headed, she is. I knew she’d-”

“Mum,” Noah tries again.

His face is pale and drawn and Charity decides she’ll insist he go home now; now that Vanessa is awake. She’ll have Debbie pick him up, or have Ryan drive him home and take a shower, order pizza for tea. Pile the little ones back into the car and bring them over. Vanessa loves their once-a-week family night. So they’ll have it in a hospital room. She’s had less family in worse places.

Noah tries to wriggle out of her grasp. “I need to tell you something.”

“It’ll have to wait, babes.” Charity kisses the top of his head and gently eases him out of her way, into Ryan’s side. Out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees Tracy shake her head at Noah, reach for him and squeeze his shoulder.

She pauses in front of the small window leading into the room. Rhona is sitting on the edge of the bed, Pete hovering nervously behind her.

_She’s awake_.

“Babe,” Charity breathes as she catches sight of Vanessa.

She’s pale, nearly as pale as Noah, and there’s a long, thin line across her forehead that’s been stitched up. There’s bruising around it that’ll take ages to heal and Vanessa surely won’t be going on any callouts to moody cows anytime soon.

Vanessa looks up from her lap, where Rhona’s hands are tangled in her own. Rhona is still speaking to her soft, low tones - words that Charity can’t, and doesn’t need to hear. The thin line wrinkles in confusion and Vanessa winces when the stitching pulls.

“Charity?” she asks.

Charity can feel her whole body softening. Each time Vanessa blinks, something else loosens in Charity’s chest. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding it all in; every muscle tense, her jaw clenched. She can feel it all unraveling now, tendrils of relief snaking through her system. Exhaustion hits her suddenly, nearly bowling her over. It doesn't matter though, not now. Not now that Vanessa’s awake.

“Gave us a right scare, you did,” Charity starts. “Had to go and be dramatic, didn’t you.”

Rhona’s eyes are wide and warning, but Charity ignores them. She rounds the bed, her hand resting over Vanessa’s ankle. The need to feel Vanessa under her hands is overwhelming; the small touch eases the ache.

“I mean, honestly.” Charity laughs, a sharp sound in the quiet room. “If you wanted to get away from me so badly, you could have just asked instead of taking down a whole staircase.” She slides her hand up Vanessa’s leg, fingers curled around the bone of her shin. She’s never been more grateful for such an inane body part; never found the curve of someone’s leg to be so perfect.

Vanessa eyes go to Rhona.

“I was just telling Vanessa what happened,” Rhona says slowly.

Charity frowns. “What do you mean, telling her what happened? Kim flaming Tate managed to orchestrate some Tate-level hysteria even after she’s she tossed herself over a railing.” She looks at Vanessa, giving her a sad smile. “You got caught right in the middle of it, babe.” There’s guilt in her throat. “Which is probably something to do with me, I’m sure.”

Vanessa opens her mouth, wincing again. “What…” She moves her jaw side to side, working the muscles before she speaks again. “What’re you doing here?”

“What am I-” Charity barks out a laugh. “What’d you mean, what am I doing here?”

“I was just explaining to Vanessa-” Rhona begins to say.

Vanessa sighs, frustrated. Her leg bucks and she kicks Charity’s hand off. “Just tell me,” she demands of Rhona. “Tell me where Kirin is.”

“ _Kirin_ ?” Charity spits. The room starts to spin on its axis. “Why’d you want to know where _Kirin_ is?”

Vanessa ignores her. “He’d want to know. Even if he doesn’t…” She hiccups softly. “Even if it isn’t working with Johnny, he loves me, still.” Her hand goes to her neck briefly. “I still love him.”

Charity’s stomach heaves. “You still _what_?”

“Charity,” Tracy says softly behind her.

“ _No_ ,” Charity says, pulling her arms across her chest. “What did you say?” she demand, taking a step towards Vanessa.

Vanessa isn’t looking at her anymore, staring anxiously at Rhona. “Is he coming?”

“Vanessa, I’m not sure if I can get ahold of him,” Rhona apologizes.

“Kirin is-”

“Enough with bloody Kirin!” Charity shouts.

Vanessa shrinks away from her, leaning towards Rhona. Pete, still hovering in the corner, steps forward, his hand on Rhona’s shoulder.

“Charity,” he warns gently. “Best you go back into the hallway, yeah?”

“ _No_ ,” Charity says. She steps closer. “Babe, come on. It’s _me_.”

Vanessa’s eyes widen. _Fear_ , Charity thinks. _That’s fear_ . She’s seen it in the eyes of the girls she used to know, when a customer would get a bit too rough, a bit too loud. _Vanessa is afraid. Of me_.

“Vanessa?” Charity asks. The walls feel like they’re closing in on her. She feels like she’s getting smaller with each second Vanessa doesn’t look at her.

Tracy’s hand curls over her arm, tugging her back. “Come on, Charity,” she says quietly. Charity stumbles, her feet rooted to the floor. Tracy is steady behind her, guiding her towards the door and out of it, into the hallway.

“What is Charity Dingle doing here?” she hears Vanessa ask Rhona as the door closes with a soft click.

Noah is grabbing for as soon as Tracy lets her go. “Mum.” Noah’s voice is broken and his cheeks are wet. “She doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember us.”

Charity’s arms go around him, holding him close. His body jerks as he cries, harder now.

She doesn’t blink back tears. She doesn’t swallow down a scream. She doesn’t hit the closet wall or kick the nearest chair. She barely feels Noah in her arms, Ryan at her back, Tracy at her side. The beeping and the business fades away to a dull hum.

She feels nothing at all.

 

-

Vanessa doesn’t remember her.

That’s what the doctors tell them all, huddled in the hallway like a pair of gobby old women with a slice of gossip. Vanessa has retrograde amnesia and she doesn’t remember.

Rhona is the only one in the room with her now, curled close around her and talking to her quietly. She’s the only one Vanessa will let in the room. Not Frank. Not Tracy.

Not Charity.

“It’s possible she may never regain her full memories back,” the doctor says carefully. “It appears that Ms. Woodfield believes it is January, 2016.”

“ _Three years_ ,” Frank breathes.

“But then…” Tracy starts, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. “She doesn’t know I’m her sister.”

“Or that I’ve redeemed myself,” Frank adds.

“There will be many things she may not remember,” the doctor says.

Charity sways, Noah a crutch at her side, holding her up. He’s got a tight hold on her hip, hanging off her like he used to when he was younger and thought she could turn all of his dreams into stardust.

Now everything is crashing down around her.

“Like me,” she whispers.

No one looks back at her, but Noah flinches. He’s heard her, at least.

“There is a chance she may regain some memories,” the doctor continues. “As time passes and she is able to return home, be surrounded by familiar items and things, paired with some therapy... “ He attempts something like a smile. “Home will help. It’s a starting point.”

_Home_ , Charity thinks.

Home is Tug Ghyll. Home is a the small loveseat she curls up on with Vanessa on Sunday mornings, while Noah and Ryan massacre an attempt at a fry up. Home is Johnny’s yellow boots next to Moses’s red ones. Home is her jacket on the hook in the living room next to Vanessa’s. Home is a proper family tea with Debs and Joe sharing a chair and Sarah looking after the boys and Noah and Ryan arguing over who gets to watch what on the telly and Vanessa leaning into her side and whispering in her ear. Home is-

She stops herself. Home _was_.

“We’ll do it,” Noah says firmly.

Charity startles, looking up at him. “You what?"

Noah straightens his shoulders, looking too much like the man Charity has spent her whole life running from. “Take Vanessa home.”

“Babe,” Charity says, shaking her head. She can still hear Vanessa in her ear, still asking for Kirin, still saying she loves him.

“We can,” Noah insists. “It’s where she lives. With us.”

“But she doesn’t remember that,” Charity tells him gently.

“She will,” Noah says confidently.

The door to Vanessa’s hospital room opens and Rhona slips into the hallway, avoiding everyone’s eyes. She gives the doctor an unsteady smile that fades to a shake of her head. _No_ ; Vanessa still doesn’t remember anything.

Charity sighs and turns away, drifting from Noah and slumping down into one of the plastic chairs.

“The last thing she seems to remember is sometime before Kirin left the village,” Rhona says. She glances at Pete quickly for a moment. “And that _I_ am still married to Paddy.”

Pete curls an arm around her shoulder and pulls her into his side, kissing the top of her head.

“Can we....?” Tracy asks, pointing towards the room.

Rhona shrugs a shoulder. “She’s a bit tired, honestly.”

The crowd moves down the hallway, to the cushier waiting room with fabric couches and a snack machine in the corner. Charity doesn’t follow them, vision blurring as she stares at the small paint chips flaking away from the wall under the window.

“Moira and I ran into Pete,” Cain says as he sits down next to her.

“Hard not to,” Charity mumbles. “Broad shoulders, eh.”

“He told us Vanessa-”

“Doesn’t remember a thing,” Charity sighs. “I’m going to put an advert in the paper next so people’ll stop saying it so bloody loud. _Vanessa Woodfield. She’s lost her memories_.”

“Not all of them.”

“The ones that matter,” Charity says.

Cain is quiet for a moment, his hands curled around his knees. “Did I ever tell you I threatened her, once?”

Charity lifts her head slowly, eyes narrowed. “You _what_?”

“Down, lady.” Cain shakes his head. “Years ago, when she spent a lot of time at the farm with the cows.”

“And he finally calls Moira a cow.” Charity says under her breath.

Cain ignores her. “Backed her into a corner and told her to watch herself. That if she told anyone she’d seen us kissing, I’d…”

Charity rolls her eyes.  “Big, bad Cain. Bullying the tiny people of the village.”

Cain scoffs. “As if I could get a word in edgewise. Put me back on my heels, she did. I think _she_ threatened _me._ ”

“Reckon you deserved it.”

“Reckon I did,” Cain agrees. “Your Vanessa, she’s a fighter. She’ll come out of this just fine.”

“Just fine,” Charity mocks. “Everyone around you is just fine.” There’s a hot, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, building into an inferno that races in her blood. “Ross was _just fine_ when his whole face was scarred by acid. Harriet was _just fine_ when she ruined her life for you. Vanessa’ll be _just fine_ if she can just get over this sticky memory situation, yeah?”

“Charity,” Cain tries.

Charity leans in towards him. “You were on those stairs with her. You felt them shift.” She jabs a finger, hard, into his chest. “ _You_ jumped back. _You_ saved yourself. Mighty Cain, always looking out for number one.”

“I don’t know what you’d have me do,” Cain starts.

Charity pokes him again, standing up and towering over him. “You could have grabbed her. She was right there. She was _right there_ ! You could have pulled her to the landing or gone to the bottom but you left her there.” She knows she’s shouting, drawing the attention of everyone around them. She can feel Vanessa’s eyes on her, through the window, but all she can see is Cain. “You could have saved her! You could have saved _us!”_

Cain stands and Charity backs up a step.

“Instead, it’s all Cain all the time.” She puts her hand flat against his chest and pushes. “Can’t be bothered by the little people, can you.

“Charity, stop it,” he warns.

She pushes forward. “We’re beneath you, are we?”

“Charity, settle down.”

“She was right beneath you!” Charity shoves him hard. “You let her fall! She was right there beneath you and you let her go!”

“Charity, _calm down!_ ”

She pushes again and they go crashing into the wall outside of Vanessa’s room. Cain loses his balance and she’s too unsteady, vision blurred with tears she’s not managed to cry yet. She can feel the hallway tilt and she braces herself for the fall, for the sharp bounce of her body against the cold floor. Cain’s arms go around her, though, holding on tightly as he slides down the wall.

“Charity,” he pants. “Charity, it’s all right.”

The world rushes back in with a roar and when she looks up, Noah is at the end of the hall, leaning into Tracy’s side. Ryan is right behind them, a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Oh, god. Cain, I-”

“It’s all right,” he breathes into her ear. “You’re all right.”

“I’m not,” she cries. “It’s not. _She’s_ not.”

 

-

There’s a knock at the door that she nearly misses. The second time it comes, she ignores it. It opens a moment later anyway, and Charity scoffs, staring down into the glass of wine she’s been holding for the last thirty minutes without actually taking a sip.

“Thought you’d be out front,” Tracy says casually. She leans in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. “That’s where the customers are, yeah?”

Charity barely glances up at her. “What’s it to you?”

Tracy lifts an eyebrow. “Uh, last I checked, your pub pays for half of your house.”

Charity looks up now, eyes hard. “You mean the house I don’t live in anymore?”

Tracy takes a step back, bumping into the arm of the couch.

“The house I’ve been scrubbed from?” Charity throws a hand towards the corner of the living room, at the boxes stacked towards the ceiling. It’s a mess of pictures and clothes. There’s a toothbrush somewhere in there - not the one she uses, but the one she gave Vanessa as a gift when they’d made their living arrangements more permanent. Rhona and Pete had brought them over the night before, apologies in their eyes they wouldn’t dare say out loud.

Charity slept on the couch, eyes wide open and staring at the boxes.

Her whole life, the life she built for herself - for her children - packed into brown boxes and stacked into a corner.

“Charity,” Tracy says softly.

Charity’s lips pull back in a sneer. “The _home_ I don’t have anymore?”

“She’s coming home!” Noah shouts from the stairs. He thunders down them, his steps heavy enough to make her wine wobble in its glass. “I saw the car pull up.” He pokes his head into the living room, a wide smile on his face. “Are you coming?”

“Oh, no, babe,” Charity dismisses. She gets to her feet and swallows the entire glass of wine in a single swallow. “Punters needs pouring, yeah?”

Noah’s shoulders and smile drop. “Mum.”

“We’re boarders now, babe,” she says, throwing a hand towards the stairs. “Going to have to pay for that somehow, yeah? Only, starting by working my share of the rota seems like the place to start.”

Noah stomps his foot impatiently. “She needs us.”

Charity snorts. “She needs _Kirin_.”

Noah stares at her for a moment before his eyes harden and his jaw sets. He turns without saying anything to her, slamming the door behind him.

The air comes back into the room as Noah leaves it. Charity can feel it filling her lungs and she lets her eyes close, breathing in.

“Charity,” Tracy says.

Charity startles, opening one eye. “You’re still here.”

Tracy bites back a sigh. “Noah is just as heartbroken about this as you are.”

“Doubt it, babe.”

“ _Charity_.”

“Oh, go on, then.” Charity waves a hand at Tracy. “Tell me.”

Tracy huffs, some hair falling across her cheeks. “Noah loves Ness. The two of them are thick as thieves.”

“Don’t remind me,” Charity mutters. “I’m still scrubbing mud out of that carpet.” She pauses. “Well, I was.”

Tracy sits down on the arm of the couch, picking up the pillow Charity had used the night before. She turns it over in her hands, setting it down on her lap. “You know, she doesn’t remember me either.”

Charity rolls her eyes. “Right. I’ve got a bar full of-”

“She doesn’t!”

“But she believes you!” Charity shouts. “She believes that you...”

Tracy crosses her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed. “She believes _what_?”

Charity sighs, the fire within her extinguishing. “She believes you matter to her. She believes you’re important to her. And she doesn’t... she doesn’t believe that about me, does she?” She shrugs a shoulder. “Who else will, if she doesn’t?”

Tracy’s mouth closes slowly.

“Go on,” Charity challenges. “Go on and tell me she’s going to suddenly wake up and remember me, remember _us_.”

Charity waits, her chest heaving. She feels lightheaded, like she’s back in front of those reporter and Bails and she’s just spilled the whole truth for everyone to hear. She’s been so tired, lately. Tired of hiding in hallways at the hospital, tired of hiding her tears from Noah, tired of putting on a smile and pretending that it’s okay Vanessa doesn’t remember the life they fought so hard to build.

“You can’t,” she says wearily. “She won’t.” She lifts her hands and drops them down to her sides. “So, what’s the point?”

She storms past Tracy, into the stairs instead of the bar. Her chest feels tight, too tight to be able to breathe, and she tugs at her blouse, loosening the zip a bit. _Fresh air_ , she thinks. _I need fresh air_. She stumbles out the door and the air is fresh, but the sunlight is too bright. She can hear people chattering on, going about their day, and it makes her sick to her stomach.

“Welcome home!”

Her head snaps up. Vanessa’s taxi has just pulled up to the door of Tug Ghyll and everyone is crowding in. Frank and Megan are getting Vanessa’s bags from the boot and Rhona is holding up, easing her out of the taxi. Tracy comes out of the front door of the pub, her shoulders back and her head high. Ryan and Noah hang back on the path, grinning at Vanessa.

Vanessa eyes the boys warily before she smiles tentatively. “Noah,” she says, testing the name out.

Charity can see Noah’s eyes light up from where she’s standing. “You remembered.”

Vanessa’s smile fades a bit as she looks at Ryan. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Ryan,” he interrupts, offering a hand. “Noah’s babysitter.”

Noah elbows him.

“I mean big brother,” he corrects, smirking wickedly.

Vanessa’s eyes skate past Ryan and land on Charity. “Big brother,” she repeats.

Charity feels her stomach turn again and she spins on her heel, pushing through the door and slamming it shut behind her. She can hear the pub swelling with people, all clamouring for a drink. The wine bottle on the table looks back at her, twinkling in the light coming in through the kitchen windows.

She takes the bottle and tucks it under her arm, leaving the glass behind on the table.

One day of this. One day of drowning her sorrows at the bottom of a few bottles of wine, and then she’ll be done. One day is what she’ll give herself to bleed Vanessa Woodfield and all of the sunshine and all of the smiles and all of the sodding touches out of her body.

One day, and then she’ll forget about Vanessa the way Vanessa has forgotten about her.

 

-

“Start from the beginning,” Noah says kindly. “Just the things I’ve told you.”

Charity hears nothing but silence for a long moment. She’s about to turn around and head back upstairs - _maybe a shower_ , she thinks as she catches sight of her hair in the glass of a picture frame - when she hears someone sigh.

“Lachlan killed Chrissy and Lawrence, then tried to kill-” Vanessa stops abruptly. “Noah, I’m not sure this is the kind of activity my doctor suggested.”

Charity presses tightly against the door, her ear to the wood.

“He said that reviewing the things from your life might help trigger memories,” Noah recites. “I’ve done readings and I-”

“Honestly,” Vanessa interrupts. “I’m not sure why’re you’re doing this. Or why I agreed to it,” she adds, soft enough that Charity nearly doesn’t hear it.

Noah sighs. “You didn’t give up on Mum. Or on me.” He pauses. “I’m not going to give up on you.”

Vanessa laughs quietly. “I still can’t believe that.”

“Believe what?”

Charity holds her breath.

“People keep telling me about… your mum and I. But it feels a bit like they’re winding me up.”

Charity can’t blame her, not really. If she woke up in a hospital bed with three years of her life gone in an instant, she wouldn’t believe it. Her and Vanessa Woodfield, of all the people in the village? It wouldn’t make sense. Vanessa wasn’t rich, she couldn’t give Charity the things Charity used to think she wanted. She’d never be the type Charity would go for.

She’s certainly not the type Vanessa would want.

“I thought so, too,” Noah admits. “Honest. Mum had to… set me straight. Told me you were different.”

Vanessa claps her hands together. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this,” she says. “You’re just a child.”

“I was nearly yours,” Noah says quietly.

Charity’s stomach turns over.

“Oh, Noah,” Vanessa breathes.

It’s hard to hear them properly through the door, but Charity is pressed tightly against it, greedily sucking up every word and exhale Vanessa comes out with. She’d had a fit when Noah told her Vanessa was coming over earlier this morning.

“She has her own house,” Charity had pointed out, ignoring the voice in her head that said it used to be Charity’s house, too.

Noah had only shrugged. “She said she’d come here.”

“For what?” Charity had mumbled. “To practice her maths and her readings?”

“To _remember_ ,” Noah spat. “To remember _us_.”

“I know you don’t remember,” Noah says now. “But you tried hard for me. I’m not going to give up on you. Mum can be hard.”

“You reckon?” Vanessa mutters.

Charity can’t be in the same room as Vanessa right now, but she wants her close anyway. She wants to be nagged about her feelings, to be browbeat into talking. She wants Vanessa’s sodding lasagna and her special Sunday morning fry ups. She wants to slide into bed after a late shift and have Vanessa roll over, curling around her body and warming her. She wants and she wants but Vanessa has nothing to give her and Charity doesn’t trust herself not to try and take it anyway.

She stays away and slinks in corners and she drinks until Vanessa feels like a foggy dream too far out of reach.

Here, in the hall of the house she moved out of a year ago, Vanessa is close enough to touch and Charity is aching for a drink.

“But she’s hurting,” Noah continues. “She said you were different. She trusted you. And you were, different, I mean. So,” he says brightly. “If we get your brain working again, you’ll go back to being our Ness, yeah?”

“Noah,” Vanessa says.

“Noah,” Charity breathes.

“You’ll see,” Noah says firmly. “You’ll remember all of what you and Mum have done together.”

Charity blinks back the tears forming in her eyes. Her baby boy, strong where she can’t be, the way he’s always been. Her strong, brave boy.

“I called Kirin,” Vanessa admits.

Charity’s heart hammers in her chest. Her fingernails dig into her knees and she bites down on her bottom lip hard enough that she tastes blood.

“I tried, at least.” Vanessa laughs sharply. “Priya was able to get in contact with a mutual friend who gave her the last number they had for him.”

“Did he pick up?” Noah’s question feels like it comes from Charity’s own mouth. “When you called?”

Vanessa is too quiet for too long. It makes the fire in the pit of Charity’s stomach smoulder and she feels sick, the T&G she had at lunch fighting its way back up.

“He said he nearly forgot all about me,” Vanessa says quietly. “Imagine that, yeah? _I’m_ the one with the head injury and he’s the one whose forgotten about me.”

There’s the soft sound of Noah’s feet against the carpet and an even softer sob that follows. Charity’s hands twitch over her knees and she pushes to her feet quietly, steadying herself on the bannister.

“Nothing makes sense,” Vanessa says, words watered down. “Nothing.”

Charity stumbles out of the building, sucking in a breath that burns on the way down. She shakes her head to clear her eyes and spies her car. Her keys are there, in her hand, before she thinks about it for too long. A quick pop into town, a quick drink - it’ll give her time to get out of the village and breathe air that Vanessa isn’t breathing; time to get away from all of the unraveling that’s happening around her.

Vanessa was right: Nothing makes sense.

She’s done so much, lived through too many horrors. Giving up Debbie, out on the streets, Bails, having Ryan, the streets again. Chris, Zoe, Michael, Declan, Jai, Tom. The trial and the truth and the baby that never really died. And Vanessa had known it all, her very own secret-keeper. And now there’s no one who knows those things anymore, not anyone who knows them the way Vanessa did.

It doesn’t make sense. Charity had done enough repentance. She’s given enough. Vanessa was her safe place.

_Another thing taken away from me_ , she thinks bitterly. _Another thing I’ve lost_.

She puts the car in drive and presses hard on the gas pedal, the village growing smaller in her rearview mirror as the air around her clears.

 

-

“Mum?”

Charity groans at the sound of Noah’s voice, too loud and cheerful for this time of the morning. She wrestles her phone out from under her body, twisted up on the couch, and peers at the time on the display.  _ Fine _ , she compromises.  _ This time of the afternoon _ . 

“Mum, come on,” Noah prods. He pokes her in the forehead. “You’ve been sleeping for ages.”

“Well that’s what happens when you’re up half the night,” she grumbles. She sits up slowly, the room spinning.

Noah wrinkles his nose. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Have not,” Charity says absently. She swings her feet out, under the small table in front of the couch. She catches something solid and an empty bottle rolls across the living room rug. “Oops. Busted.”

Noah sighs. “You’ve been  _ busted _ for the last week.”

“Oh, come on, babes.” She reaches for him, using him as a crutch to stand up. Noah steadies her when she pitches one way, holding onto her. Charity smiles and curls some of his hair back behind his ear. 

_ Vanessa was right _ , is the first thought that comes to her mind.  _ He’s growing it out to be as long as Ryan’s _ . 

She scowls.  _ Must be the booze _ , she thinks. She’s not thought of Vanessa at all recently, the wine replacing any lingering ideas she’s had. They’ve come and gone, all in whispers of Vanessa’s voice:  _ Your turn to pay the light bill _ .  _ I’ll clean Moses and Johnny’s wellies if you speak to Noah about his towel use during showers _ .  _ Don’t forget to remember the milk _ ,  _ Charity _ , Vanessa had said to her on their last morning together.  _ The boys’ll need it for their cereal tomorrow. _

She drinks each one away as fast as they come.

“I saw Vanessa this morning,” Noah says slowly.

Charity stiffens, leaning back from Noah. “Oh,” she says, trying hard to keep her voice even. “Good for you, babe.”

“The doctor said if she keeps doing brain exercises, she might be able to regain her memory.” His voice is high, excited. “We’re doing some together. She didn’t want to, at first, but Johnny’s still scared by her, so.” He shrugs. “She said she’d try. For him.”

There’s a hint of longing in Noah’s voice that goes just as easily as it comes.

“She did better today,” Noah continues. “Even remembered that Johnny dumped split pea soup on the floor.”

_ Johnny _ , Charity thinks, her chest aching. He’d been shipped off with Frank and Megan for days before they brought him by to see Vanessa last night. Charity had been about to pour herself a drink last night when Tracy came round with Johnny in tow, his eyes red and his nose raw.

Tracy had taken the glass from Charity’s hand and finished it for her. “She doesn’t remember Johnny,” she said.

Charity frowned. “She what?”

Johnny snuggled into Charity’s side, his body warm and sleepy. Tracy lowered her voice and filled the wine glass to the brim again. 

“She thought he was still an infant, didn’t she.” Tracy waved her free hand around. “She kept insisting we had the wrong baby and we needed to go get hers.”

Charity curled herself around Johnny protectively. “She never.”

“She did,” Tracy assured her. “Told me the last she remembered of Johnny was kicking Kirin-”

Charity grimaced at his name.

“-Out of the house for getting mad at Johnny.”

Charity’s eyes flashed. “He  _ what _ ?”

Tracy nodded. “Scared this wee one,” she said quietly.

Charity’s hand twitched, flexing into a fist. “I’ll-”

“Do nothing but make him feel loved,” Tracy said pointedly. Johnny blinked sleepily against her, his hand fisting in the fabric of her sleep pants.  He smiled up at her and laid his head down on her lap, twitching a bit when Charity rubbed a hand through his hair in slow circles. 

“Night, Char’ty,” he murmured.

“Night, Johnnybobs.” She waited until Tracy scooped him up and the door closed behind them, headed back to Frank and Megan’s, before she reached for another bottle and twisted off the top.

“She’s even got a book,” Noah says, breaking through her thoughts. “Where she writes down all the things that’ve changed since she-”

“A book?” Charity laughs, wincing a bit at how loud the sound is. “She’s got retrograde amnesia. Not the everyday kind.”

“Mum,” Noah says wearily. He takes a deep breath, one much too big for a boy his age. “You’ll see, okay? She’ll love us again.”

Charity scowls. “I need to get back to work.”

She stomps into the bar, her lungs burning and her eyes wet, and grabs the first glass she can find, holding it under the optic until it’s full of amber liquid. She swallows the whole drink, hissing as it goes down. Her elbows lock when she braces her hands against the bar. Someone clears their throat and Charity looks up, eyes narrowed, ready to snap at Jimmy or Rodney or Eric.

Vanessa lifts a hand in a small wave.

“Oh, of course,” Charity hisses. She picks up a crossword and a pen, the letters swimming on the page. She stares at them until she recognizes each letter and word, minutes passing in a noisy blur.

“So, my drink hasn’t changed, then,” Vanessa says suddenly.

Charity looks up. “What?”

Vanessa’s smile falters a bit. She points at the glass in front of her. “My drink. It hasn’t…” She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Nevermind me.”

Charity looks at her for a long moment. Vanessa’s hair is up in a ponytail, a few loose strands curled up around the collar of her shirt, tucked away underneath her yellow jumper. Charity can see the spot on the back of her neck that Vanessa always made a stink about; the one she told Charity to stay away from, but melted when Charity eventually turned her attention to. 

“I don’t know what you’re going through-”

“No, Vanessa, you don’t.” Charity scowls at her, lips pulled back in a sneer. Whatever was softening inside of her hardens quickly, back into a knot of anger she holds onto too tightly and fear she won’t acknowledge. “You don’t know  _ anything _ , remember?”

Vanessa glares back at her. “Thank you, for the reminder. As if I don’t get told enough, yeah?”

“By  _ Kirin _ ?” Charity spits. She presses her lips together, her heart pounding in her chest. 

Vanessa leans back a bit. “No,” she admits. “I haven’t…” She shakes her head. “He’s not returned anymore of my calls.”

“Not much of a surprise, is it?” Charity shrugs a shoulder. “Being on the run from the law.” She slaps a hand down on the bar, her face twisted into something she’s sure looks like a grin. “Hey, that’s something else you can write down in your Rebecca book, yeah? You like men on the run. Slept with our Adam, murderer.” She lifts one finger and then another. “Kirin, murderer and all.” She lean back, eyes widening for effect. “Actually, maybe not write that one down, babe. Would hate for your type to get out.”

Robert, a few seats down, snorts into his pint glass. “You better add ‘emotionally stunted blonde barmaids’ to that list.”

“Put a sock in it,” Vanessa says.

“Shut your mucky gob, Robert,” Charity spits.

Robert scowls at both of them. 

“You’ve not changed either, have you?” Vanessa asks softly. “Still always taking the mick.”

Charity throws her arms wide. She can feel everyone staring at her, all of them hanging on her every word. “What else can I do when you make it  _ so _ easy?” 

Vanessa stares at her for another moment before she pushes the still-full drink back across the bar. She spins off the stool and storms past Rhona and Pete at the door, 

Rhona sighs and shakes her head, following after Vanessa. Pete scrubs a hand over his face and strides across the pub, picking up Vanessa’s abandoned drink. He lifts it at Charity and mouths ‘cheers’ before finishing it in one go. 

Charity ignores him, turning back to the optic. Noah is there, eyes hard and mouth set in a firm line. Something drops in the pit of her stomach. “Babe,” she starts.

“You’re doing it again,” he accuses. 

“Doing what?” she asks. “Telling the truth?”

Noah jabs a finger at her. “You’re ruining things  _ again _ .”

Charity’s mouth drops open. “I’m not-”

“You  _ always _ do this!” he shouts. “You always make them leave!”

“Noah,” she tries.

“No wonder she doesn’t want to remember you!” he yells, pushing past her and out from behind the bar. He knocks over a chair and bumps into Jimmy, shouldering him out of the way. The pub door slams shut behind him and the place is quiet, for a change. 

She doesn’t meet their eyes when she turns, her hand shaking as she holds her glass under the optic.  _ No wonder _ , she thinks.  _ No wonder she doesn’t want to remember me _ . She reaches for the lever but her hand won’t close around it or pull it down. She stares at it curiously, hearing the soft chatter behind her rise back to its normal level.  _ No wonder she- _

Pete’s large hand covers her own, pulling on the lever. She watches the liquid fill her glass, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. It moves up and into her chest, digging out the space where she thinks her heart used to be, before she gave it to Vanessa.  _ Only for it to be trampled on, thrown about, and forgotten about,  _ she thinks. She laughs, the sound breaking somewhere in her throat. 

“Go on,” Pete says softly, guiding her towards the corridor. He starts rolling up a sleeve, giving her an easy smile. “I’ll take care of the bar, yeah? 

“You’ve not run a pub,” she says, even as she lets herself be walked to the living room.

“Bit like herding sheep, I imagine,” he says, still smiling. “Only I’m herding them towards me instead of away.”

Charity wants to tell him he can’t manage a bar; that she needs to get back to work because nothing is wrong with her. But his smile is too soft and his hands are too warm and his eyes are too kind and it’s all too much for her now. She grips her glass tighter and nods shakily at him before she ducks into the living room.

She makes it as far as the couch before she falls, sinking into the cushion. The glass is empty in a single flick of her wrist and the ache as the liquor goes down burns in a way that reminds her she’s still alive.

Still alive and still alone and still remembering all the things she had; all the things she lost.

_ At least Vanessa gets to forget _ , she thinks.

Charity fishes another bottle of wine out from under the couch and screws the top off, letting it bounce along the carpet.  _ Maybe I can forget, too _ .


	2. heavy is the cost

_**heavy is the** **cost**_

“What’s this?” she asks warily, standing in the door to the living room.

Ryan stands up, grabbing at her elbow and pulling her further into the room. “We have to talk.”

Charity tries to wiggle free, but the alcohol coursing through her is slowing her down, making her foggy. Everyone’s faces are long and stretched out and she has to blink to get them into focus.  Noah and Moses and Ryan and Debbie. Zak and Faith. Tracy and Johnny and Frank and Megan. She spots the ladle on the table and starts to back up.  “No, no. I won’t do Dingle Court again. I still refuse to acknowledge the legality of this court.”

“Steady on, love,” Zak says. “It’s not Dingle Court. Won’t have your Vanessa shouting at me again.”

“Well, she’s not  _ my _ Vanessa, is she?” Charity spits.

“Sit down,” Debbie says firmly, pointing to the chair in the middle of the room. “You’ve had your say. Lots of it, if the lack of inventory is anything to go by. Now it’s time for ours.”

“Yours?” Charity starts. “ _ Your _ say?” She pushes at Ryan’s hand on her arm. “Did anyone else lose the woman they lo-” She stops herself, glaring at them. “The woman they care about?”

“Yes,” Noah says from the couch. “I did.”

“And me,” Ryan adds.

Noah curls an arm around Moses. “Moz did too.”

Charity knows they’re not wrong. She lost the woman she loves, but Noah and Ryan and Moses lost a woman who loved them. Noah lost a parent, the same way he’s been losing them his whole life. Charity knows it, but acknowledging it is another thing. 

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You see her every day,” she tells Noah.

“You could too,” Noah points out.

Charity barks out a laugh. “Give over.  _ Hey, babe, _ ” she says mockingly. “ _ You’ve lost three years of your life. Let’s snog. _ ”

Noah sighs and throws a hand up towards Debbie. “See what I mean?”

“Mum, you-”

Charity pulls back, a hand over her chest. “Oh, has Mrs. Joseph Tate decided to bless us with her presence? Well, aren’t we just lucky. Where is your husband, eh?”

“He’s out of town,” Debbie says, her jaw clenched.

Charity wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “When the hubby’s away, the wife will play, eh? Old material, though, babe.”

“Charity,” Zak scolds.

“ _ No _ ,” Charity hisses. “I’m not doing this. Not again.”

“If you just talk to her,” Tracy starts.

“ _ You _ talk to her!” Charity shouts. “What’ve I got to say to her, eh? What is there to talk about?”

“Your life, love,” Faith says gently. “You had a good one, there.”

“And now it’s gone,” Charity finishes.

“Not if you don’t want it to be,” Faith argues.

Charity feels a fire light within her and she straightens up, her shoulders back. “ _ I _ am not the one giving up.”

“You are,” Noah says.

“Here’s a life lesson, babe, free of charge,” she tells him. “That wall you’re hitting your head against? It’ll never give. You’ll just end up with a headache.”

Noah scowls. “Did you even care about her?”

“Did I…” Charity laughs, the noise hard and bitter in her ear. “Did I care about her?”

“Only, you’re acting like-”

“Like you’ve lost the love of your life,” Frank interrupts. He steps forward, his hands up in front of him. 

_ In surrender _ , Charity thinks absently.

“Frank,” Megan scolds.

Frank ignores Megan, moving closer to Charity. “You’ve lost her, haven’t you. She’s there, but she’s not.”

Charity eyes him warily, folding her arms over her chest. 

“All those moments you shared, they’re nothing to her,” Frank continues. “It must be difficult.”

“It’s none of your damn business,” Charity snaps.

“We’ve all lost a bit of her, but you…” Frank spreads his arms wide. “You’ve lost everything.”

“I’ll be fine,” she says firmly. “I always am.”

“You’re strong,” Frank agrees. “But you’re hurting. Drinking. Pushing people away. I was the same as you when I lost Teeny’s mum.”

“Oh, sod off, Frank.” Charity scowls at him. “ _ You _ left Vanessa’s mum. Not the other way around.”

“It didn’t mean I wasn’t hurting,” Frank says easily. “I drank myself into a stupor. Woke up in a different place each morning. Sorry, darling,” he says, turning to give Megan a quick smile. “It took me years to get myself back on the wagon.”

“So I should go and find someone new, yeah?” Charity asks. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Faith winces and steps forward. “What this overgreased buffoon is saying-”

“I should just forget about Vanessa and fall in bed with the next warm body?” Charity continues over Faith. “I should forget about the life we built and our boys and our house? I should just move on from that, should I?” She wipes angrily at her wetness on her cheeks. “How am I going to do that?” She strides forward, trapping Frank against the bookcase. “How do you expect me to just give up on us like that?”

“We don’t,” Frank says softly.

“You just-” Charity stops, clapping her hand over her mouth. “I can’t give up on her.”

“It won’t be easy,” Frank rushes on. “She’s got a long way to go, our Vanessa.”

Charity’s eyes scan the room wildly. “She-”

“Needs you,” Ryan says confidently.

Tracy nods next to him. “Now more than ever, Charity.”

Charity shakes her head. “But she-”

“Just needs time,” Noah says kindly.

Faith smiles brightly at her. “You can give her that, love. Can’t you?”

Megan catches her eye. “Think Rottweiler, eh?”

Charity swallows heavily, wiping at her chin clumsily. “Right. Rottweiler.”

“ _ Woof! _ ,” Moses says.

Charity rolls her eyes and reaches for him, lifting him onto her hip when he reaches her. “Well, where do we start?”

“By dumping that booze,” Faith says, picking up a bottle from the kitchen counter. She takes a swig, winking when Zak groans, and dumps the rest in the sink.

“And by letting her know you’re here,” Frank adds. “We’re all here. For both of you,” he adds.

Moses grabs her face, his hands pressed on each side of her cheeks. He pushes them together and giggles at the way her lips pucker.

“Okay,” Charity agrees. “Okay.”

She exhales.

 

-

“Char’ty!”

Charity turns at the sound of Johnny’s voice, finding him easily among the flowers outside of David’s shop. He runs towards her, arms outstretched. He’s easy to scoop up and settle on her hip, digging her fingers into his side just to hear him laugh.

“Johnny, you can’t- Oh.” 

Charity squints against the sunlight that halos around Vanessa’s head. “Sorry,” she says, starting to put him down.

“It’s okay,” Vanessa says quickly. “He… He doesn’t stop talking about you.”

Charity grins, forgetting herself for a moment. “What a gob on this one.”

Johnny opens his mouth wide.

“That’s my boy, yeah?” She runs her hands through his hair. It’s grown out all over now and she knows he’s trying to wear it like Noah’s, the way it is in the picture Johnny has in his bedroom of the lot of them.

_ Had _ , Charity thinks bitterly.

She looks up and her hand stills in his hair. Vanessa is peering at her, eyes narrowed as she watches the way Johnny leans into Charity’s side. “I’m sorry,” she says, starting to step away. “He’s not-”

“He’s not used to me yet,” Vanessa says, her eyes clouded just slightly. Her voice is odd, like she’s speaking but she doesn’t realize. “Suppose I’m not used to him, yet.” She laughs, hard and unlike her. “It’s not every day, though, that you wake up and realize the baby you’ve left behind is grown, is it?”

Charity’s chest aches. “Suppose not,” she manages, her throat tight as she thinks about Ryan. 

Vanessa blinks a few times before she seems to realize who she’s talking to. “I’m sorry. You were on your way in and we were on our way out, so…”

“Right,” Charity says too loud. “Right.” She kneels down and looks Johnny in the face.

His hands are still little as they press against her cheeks. “Come home?” he asks softly.

Tears push at the back of Charity’s eyes and she swallows hard to clear her throat. “Oh, babes. I’ve got loads to do at the pub. Chas needs me, you know.”

“Need you,” Johnny says. His palms slide off her face to the long strands of hair caught in her scarf. He twists them around his fingers. “Mummy sad.”

Charity gives him a crooked smile. “Reckon you better make her smile, then.”

Johnny shakes his head, eyes and mouth solemn. “You do.”

Charity takes a deep breath, trying to steady the twisting of her stomach. “Listen, Johnnybobs. You and your mummy should go and spend some time together, yeah? You can show her your construction toys and that hat your Uncle Pete got you from Butlers. The funny one with the sheep on it.” She starts to stands, brushing her fingers over his forehead. “Someday soon, I’ll come by and see you. Promise.”

“Maybe…” Vanessa starts, closing her mouth with a press of her lips. “Maybe you could have him over at yours?”

Charity looks up, eyes wide. “What?”

Vanessa nods, a little more sure. “Obviously, he likes you. And wants to spend time with you.” Something passes him over her face. “I can’t deny him that, can I?”

“Even if you don’t know the person you’re leaving him with?” Charity asks. 

Vanessa shrugs. “He knows you. He must see something in you.”

“But you don’t.” Charity says before she can stop herself.

Vanessa sighs and rubs at her forehead. “Charity.”

“So you do remember my name,” Charity pushes. She’s not had a drink in a few days and her nerves are frayed, exposed livewires that spark at the sight of Vanessa. It’s always been easy, this: picking on someone she knows will push back. She craves the confrontation, as misplaced as it is.

But Vanessa from before,  _ her Vanessa _ , never played that game and Vanessa now, this stranger, doesn’t play either.

“He remembers you. Even if…” Vanessa takes a deep breath. “Even if I don’t, Johnny does. And he’s lost too many people who care for him.”

“Adam,” Charity guesses.

Something flashes over Vanessa’s face. “He really loved him,” she says softly. “Kirin never-” She stops herself, forcing a bright smile. “And, well, you do. Right?”

“Right,” Charity echoes. “Hard not to. Doesn’t give you much of a choice, does he?”

Vanessa’s smile doesn’t waver, even when she looks from Johnny to Charity. “You lived with us.”

Charity can only nod.

“Which means that I- I used to trust you.” Vanessa’s smile dims just slightly. “Be nice for him to do something like that. He’s friendly with your boy, Moses, yeah?”

_ His brother _ , Charity wants to say. Instead, she swallows back the words and nods instead.

Vanessa nods, more for herself than at Charity. “Maybe you can take him now, if you’re not too busy?”

Charity finds a smile within herself, mostly for Johnny’s sake. “Of course. We can go get Moses from Uncle Ross, yeah?” she asks him.

Johnny beams. “Moses!”

Charity looks up and catches the despair flashing across Vanessa’s face.

“I’ll pick him up around tea time,” Vanessa offers. 

Charity waves her off. “He can spend the night, can’t he? I’ll bring him round in the morning. Or just take the boys to nursery. Mondays are my-” She stops herself.

“Mondays are what?” Vanessa asks.

Charity exhales slowly. “Mondays are usually my morning to bring the boys to nursery,” she says quietly. “You work early at the surgery, so, I’m in charge of drop off.”

Vanessa stares at her for a long moment. “Oh,” she finally says. “I didn’t-”

“Course you didn’t,” Charity says, her voice kinder than she feels. “It’s one of those… What did Noah call them? Mundane? One of those mundane facts. The ones that don’t matter.”

“They all matter,” Vanessa mutters. She’s staring at the hand Charity is waving around while she talks. “They’re all part of a bigger…” She trails off, reaching out for Charity’s hand. She catches it between her own and holds it still, turning it over until their palms slide together and their fingers lace.

Charity shivers, her skin burning at the simple touch. She holds her breath, afraid to move and break whatever spell Vanessa is under.

“This…” Vanessa shakes her head. “It feels…”

“What?” Charity asks quietly.

Vanessa’s head snaps up and she blinks, dropping Charity’s hand quickly. “I’m sorry,” she says, taking a step back.

“Vanessa,” Charity tries.

Vanessa shakes her head. “No. I’m…” She forces another smile and takes a step back.

“Vanessa,” Charity says again.

“Dropping him off at nursery is fine,” Vanessa rushes. “I’ll pick him up from there.” She turns on her heel and hurries across the lane, away from the shop.

“She’s as odd as ever, your mummy,” Charity murmurs to Johnny. 

Johnny nods silently at her.

Charity smiles too wide for it to feel real and tugs on Johnny’s arm gently. He skips ahead and Charity can’t help but look back over her shoulder as Vanessa disappears into Tug Ghyll.

“Come on then, Johnnybobs. Let’s go get your brot- Moses, yeah?”

Johnny lets out a small shriek and breaks her hold on his hand, toddling towards Dale View.

Charity looks back at Tug Ghyll and takes a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.  _ Baby steps _ , she thinks.  _ Baby steps _ .

 

-

Her phone rings in the middle of the night, pulling her out of her dream. She groans in protest. It was a good dream - her and Vanessa on a beach in Ireland, the waves crashing over the boys as Noah pulled them back to shore. Her ringtone breaks the spell and she slaps a hand down on her end table a few times before her fingers curl over the phone.

“What?” she barks.

“Charity.” Tracy’s voice is a hot whisper of fear.

Charity sits up, the room spinning. “What happened?” She’s already getting out of bed, turning the light on and searching for the dressing robe she had on earlier.

Tracy is quiet for a moment and the silence gnaws at Charity’s stomach.

“ _ Tracy _ ,” Charity hisses. “Tell me what-”

“She had a nightmare,” Tracy finally says. “I’ve rung Rhona, but Vanessa won’t talk to her. And Dad came, but V went and locked herself in the bathroom and-”

“I’m on my way,” Charity says, phone stuck between her shoulder and her ear as she pulls her dressing robe tight around her waist and belts it. She doesn’t bother ending the call, clutching the phone in her hand as she slips into the hallway. She catches sight of Moses and Noah in Noah’s bed, curled up around a Rubble stuffed toy that Charity knows belongs to Johnny. She doesn’t stop, moving down the stairs and out of the pub, shoes still inside.

She hurries across the lane and lets herself into Tug Ghyll. The living room is full - Rhona, Pete, and Johnny on the couch, Pete snoring lightly with Johnny asleep on his chest; Frank and Megan at the kitchen table, each with a mug in their hands; Tracy pacing back and forth with her phone pressed her her lips.

“Where is she?”

Tracy’s head snaps up. “Upstairs. She woke up screaming and I couldn’t get her to calm down. She chucked a brew at Dad’s head and locked herself in the-”

“You should have called me earlier,” Charity hisses, pushing her phone into Tracy’s hands. She ignores the scoff of protest and takes the stairs quickly, pausing in front of the bathroom door to catch her breath. She can hear soft noises from behind the door; the sound of Vanessa crying into a towel, she’s sure.

“Vanessa,” she calls quietly, rapping her knuckles against the door.

“Go away.”

“Vanessa, let me in.”

“I said,  _ go away _ ,” Vanessa says louder. 

Charity sighs and reaches up, fingers moving along the doorframe until the touch the cold metal of the key she’s hid up there. She fumbles with the doorknob for a moment before the key catches and then she’s in, closing the bathroom door quickly behind her.

Vanessa looks up, eyes wide. She’s shifts away, pressing back against the tub, feet sliding on the small rug on the floor. “How did you…”

Charity holds up the key. “Had it made months ago. Johnny and Moses got themselves locked in and Pete had to come take the door of the frame, yeah? That, and our Noah’s been a bit of a bathroom hog.”

Vanessa blinks at her, shaking her head slowly. “I don’t remember that.”

Charity waves a hand dismissively. “Wasn’t much of a to do,” she lies. Vanessa had been hysterical, rattling off all the things the boys could get into that might be toxic. At one point, she’d taken Pete’s tools away from him, intent on hammering down the door herself. Charity had corralled her into the bedroom, letting her work out her hysterics. 

“I think I threw something at me dad,” Vanessa admits.

“Finally.” Charity smiles crookedly. “Been waiting on that for ages.”

“Charity,” Vanessa scolds. She picks at the rug, pulling a thread loose. “What’re you doing here.”

Charity shrugs. “Walking the village in my dressing gown. Fresh air and all.”

Vanessa’s eyes move from Charity’s head to her feet. Charity can’t stop the small shiver that runs through her; it feels like it’s been so long since Vanessa has looked at her, instead of through her. She shifts, suddenly uncomfortable with the way Vanessa is studying her - curiously, as if she’s never seen Charity before.

“You’ve got no shoes.”

Charity looks down and shrugs. “Forgot them.”

“Tracy called you,” Vanessa guesses.

“Should have called me before calling Franky-boy,” Charity mutters. “Honestly, after the  _ Beaches _ debacle, how could you trust that man with anything.”

The curve of Vanessa’s mouth sours into a frowns. “ _ Beaches _ ?”

Charity sighs and sits down on the floor, her back against the door. Giving Vanessa their whole history isn’t the right idea; she’s been listening when Noah talks. Letting Vanessa remember things - if she remembers anything at all - should happen all on its own. Forcing memories’ll just make it worse.

“Trace said you had a nightmare,” she says, trying for casual.

“ _ Trace _ ,” Vanessa repeats, a sneer on her face. “You two are friendly.”

“She’s your sister,” Charity says.

Vanessa scoffs. “So she says.”

“Vanessa.”

“Everyone is  _ telling _ me things. Tracy is my sister. My dad is back in the picture.” Vanessa’s eyes widen. “Rhona is dating Pete and she’s not married to Paddy any more, Moira has a baby, and  _ everything _ is different! 

“I know,” Charity whispers.

“You don’t!”

Charity holds up a hand, inching forward. “Okay, Vanessa.”

“No!” Vanessa shouts. “No one knows. No one understands what it’s like to wake up each day and not remember a single moment of your life over the last three years. My Dad doesn’t, Rhona doesn’t Tracy doesn’t and you don’t!”

“No!” Charity yells over her. “ _ You _ don’t.”

Vanessa cowers back slightly, her voice still strong. “You’re not the victim here.”

“Aren’t I?” Charity scoffs, her hand clenched into a fist. She can feel her fingernails cutting into her palm but she ignores the ache. “Haven’t I lost just as much as you?”

“No,” Vanessa spits. “You haven’t.”

“Oh, babe.” Charity laughs until she can feel tears at the back of her eyes. She’s lost so much and no one  _ cares _ . She’s lost all of her secrets, whispered in the dark. She’s lost all of the trust she doled out in careful slices. She’s lost all of her faith in herself. It died the first time Vanessa said “ _ I don’t remember _ ” and it hasn’t had a heartbeat since.

“Stop it,” Vanessa hisses.

Charity pauses. “Don’t you think I wish I could?” She shakes her head. “You think you’re the only one who lost everything,  _ babe _ . What about Johnny? What about Moses? What about Noah and Ryan and  _ me _ ?”

“What about me?” Vanessa shouts. She picks up a container of shampoo, the one Charity used - the one Rhona forget to pack up in those awful brown boxes still stacked in the living room at the Woolpack - and throws it into the tub. The plastic cracks and the liquid spills out in globs. Vanessa scoots back, eyes wide and her hand clapped over her mouth.

“Okay,” Charity says carefully, measuring her breaths. “Alright now. That’s more my move, yeah?”

“I don’t-” Vanessa stops, looking frantically around the room. “I’m not the one who-”

Charity moves forward on her knees, hands out for Vanessa to see. “Vanessa, just calm down.”

“Calm down?  _ Calm down _ ? I can’t calm down!” Vanessa cries. “I can’t remember and I can’t calm down and everyone wants so much from me. They want me to remember everything and I just… I try and…”

“Okay, okay,” Charity coos. She presses her hands to Vanessa’s shoulders, then slides them along Vanessa’s neck, tipping Vanessa’s head up so their eyes meet. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Vanessa cries. She sinks forward into Charity’s hands. “It’s not okay.”

Charity twists, pulling Vanessa closer her back is to Charity’s front, Vanessa’s head under her chin. She strokes her hands down Vanessa’s back, feeling the tension coil and fade the longer she leans against Charity.

“You know,” Charity says quietly after a few moments. “You once told me that I should never say I’m okay if I’m not.”

Vanessa hiccups. “That sounds like something I’d say.” Her fingers skip along Charity’s elbow. “Just not something I’d say to you.”

Charity snorts softly. “There’s quite a bit of things you’ve said to me that no one else has.”

Vaness is quiet for a few heartbeats. “I don’t remember.”

It hurts a bit less each time Vanessa says, each time Charity hears it. The pain is there all the time but it’s less of a sharp stab and more of a dull ache that comes with a bruise. Each time someone pokes it, she remembers it’s there.

“I know, babe,” Charity says quietly. 

“I want to,” Vanessa continues. “But I still wake up each night expecting-”

“Him,” Charity says, before Vanessa can.

Vanessa nods, her cheek scratching against the fabric of Charity’s dressing gown. “And for Johnny to still be in his cot, crying.”

Charity snorts. “He snores louder than he cries these days.”

Vanessa goes quiet again and Charity kicks herself for saying anything. “You know that about him. I… I don’t. I look at my little boy and I see a stranger.”

“He still sees his mum,” Charity says. 

“I don’t know you,” Vanessa whispers. “My head… It doesn’t remember this.”

“I know,” Charity says, impatience getting the better of her. 

Vanessa’s hand moves over Charity’s, tapping each knuckle gently. “But my body…” She trails off, confusion in her voice. “It remembers this,” she finishes, her hand sliding over Charity’s wait, down to the curve of her hip. 

Charity’s hand falls over Vanessa’s, squeezing gently. There’s a familiar burn in the pit of her stomach that lights up at Vanessa’s touch. Her body remembers the last one - Vanessa’s hand on her arm before she drifts across the dance floor and up the stairs at Home Farm. She wants to close her eyes and get lost in this feeling. She wants to take what Vanessa is trying to give her, but Vanessa’s hand isn’t as sure as it usually is. It stutters and stalls and Charity feels nauseous under the weight of it. 

“Babe,” she murmurs, her hand over Vanessa’s. “Don’t.”

Vanessa moves away, trying to pull her hand back, but Charity tightens her grip, holding Vanessa closer. 

“Close your eyes,” Charity whispers. “Just close your eyes.”

Vanessa is still for a moment before she settles back against Charity, her breathing evening out. Charity runs her hand through Vanessa’s hair, untangling the small knots and easing out the curls.

She waits until she’s sure Vanessa is asleep, whimpering softly against her shoulder, before she eases her to the ground, a towel under her head. She pulls another one over Vanessa’s body, tucking it around her shoulders. Some of Vanessa’s hair is in her face but Charity scrapes it back behind her ear, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. She leans forward and brushes her lips across Vanessa’s forehead, holding her breath when Vanessa shifts in her sleep.

Charity takes a few steadying breaths before she heads down the stairs, folding her arms over her chest to hide her shaking hands.

Tracy jumps forward. Megan and Frank stand up from the table. Rhona swats Pete and he looks up sleepily. They each open their mouth, talking over each other.

“No,” Charity says sharply, holding up a hand against the onslaught of their questions. “Not tonight. She’s… she’s asleep. The bathroom door is open. I’m… I’m going to bed.”

She steps out into the cool night air and moves down the path.

Her feet ache the whole way home.

 

-

“Knock, knock.”

Charity doesn’t bother looking up from thel unch she’s making Moses. It’s midday on a Sunday and that can only mean it’s Vanessa, bringing Johnny over for the afternoon. “Come on, then. Lunch is ready.”

She puts the plates down on the table and smiles as Johnny clambers up into his seat, giving her a wide grin in return. Charity runs her fingers through his hair absently while he trades his cucumber sticks for Moses’s chips, and looks up, shocked to see Vanessa still standing in the doorway.

Usually, Vanessa dips in and drops him off, not staying long enough for more than a passing hello and goodbye. It’s been that way for weeks, now, since they made a plan for the boys to see each other. Like two strangers passing by who barely know each other. Except, Charity knows everything and Vanessa knows nothing.

“Want a cuppa?” she hears herself ask.

Vanessa’s  _ yes _ takes her a moment to process. “If you’re sure,” Vanessa adds.

“Course,” Charity says quickly, turning the kettle on. “They’re going to eat and then go play.” She waves at the couch. “Sit, yeah? Tea’ll be done in a moment.”

Vanessa sits on the edge of the couch, her hands on her knees. She forces a tight smile when Charity glances back, busying herself with fanning out the mags Chas picked up and dumped on the coffee table.

“Here,” Charity says, pushing a mug into Vanessa’s hands.

Vanessa stares at it for a moment, taking in the gray and black and white triangles. Charity watches her trace her finger down the side of, hissing at the heat coming through the ceramic. 

“Everything okay?” Charity asks.

Moses and Johnny are chattering away, swapping lunch bites and going on about something they learned at nursery.

Vanessa smiles again, that same tight one that she’s been wearing lately. “As good as they can be, I imagine,” she says quietly. “I went to the doctor’s today.”

Charity swallows down the hope rising in her throat. “That’s good, innit?”

Vanessa begins a nod that ends in a shrug. “Suppose so.”

“Not a good report?” Charity asks carefully. “I’m sure the doctor is a pillock, anyway.”

“He’s the best in the Dales,” Vanessa says, a hint of a smile on her face.

“That’s what people say about me, too, babe,” Charity says, winking.

Vanessa rolls her eyes and takes a small sip from her cup, sighing contentedly. “Just how I like it.”

“I know,” Charity says simply.

“Right,” Vanessa says quietly. “Ta.”

“Vanessa, I didn’t-”

Vanessa looks up, mouth set in a firm line. “Everyone treats me like I’m a chinchilla just out of anesthesia.”

“Augustus,” Charity snorts.

Vanessa frowns. “How do you know the name of Mr. Allen’s-” She stops and shakes her head. “Nevermind. Point is, everyone treats me with kid gloves, yeah? Like I’m going to break every time they open their mouth.”

Charity sips from her tea cup, waiting.

“The only people who don’t are…” Vanessa laughs softly. “Well, you and Noah and Ryan.”

“Got the worst of me, they did,” Charity murmurs. “Ryan’s got a right gob on him. And our Noah is a bit headstrong.”

“A bit,” Vanessa repeats. She takes another sip of her tea. “I didn’t know you had an older boy, too.”

Charity pauses for a moment. “Neither did I, honestly. And then, besides me, you used to be the only one who did.”

Vanessa takes that in, nodding slowly. Charity knows she’s been better, lately. Less likely to throw the mug in her hand than before. Noah has still been seeing her everyday, still trying to jog her memory. He tells her, over tea, how Vanessa isn’t angry anymore, just sad. He comes back to the Woolpack each day, a little more defeated than when he left. 

“Ryan, though, he’s all me. Even if I didn’t raise him,” Charity continues.

Vanessa laughs a bit. “He came by with Noah the other day. Wanted to show me something on the television.  _ Embarrassing Bodies _ , yeah?”

“He’s a good boy, he is.”

Vanessa’s smile is a little wider now, a little more genuine. “They both are.”

Charity lifts her chin in the air. “I’ll take no credit for that, thank you very much. Unless you’re giving it to me.”

“A wee bit,” Vanessa says, pinching her thumb and first finger together. “Moses, too.”

“Oh, he’s all mine,” Charity says. She grins, teasing. “Ross is to blame for all the bad bits.”

Vanessa shakes her head. “Ross Barton. A dad.”

“And good one,” Charity adds. “If you can believe it.”

“I truly can’t.” Vanessa shakes her head again. “Though, it seems these Barton boys are good dads, yeah? Adam, Ross. Pete!”

“Caught us by surprise, that did,” Charity agrees. “But our Leo loves him just as much as he loves Marlon or Paddy.”

Vanessa smiles and drinks her tea for a moment, watching the two boys at the table. “They treat me like I’m made of glass. The lot of them. All afraid to tell me the truth.”

Charity looks at her for a moment, catching the frustration in Vanessa’s eyes; the way it seeps into her hands, curled around her tea cup; the way it sets in her jaw and her shoulders. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Vanessa admits.

Charity laughs. “Not much of a place to go from,” she says.

“I don’t know,” Vanessa whines. “I feel like no one is giving me the whole story, do you know what I mean?”

“Mummy,” Johnny calls, climbing down out of his chair. “Mummy, I want swings.”

Vanessa brightens a bit before her shoulders slump again. “Well, my darling. Why don’t you ask Charity, huh? You’re spending time with her today.”

“Come with us,” Charity says before she can stop herself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, course.” Charity puts on a big smile. “The boys’ll love it. Moses always liked you pushing him more than me.”

Moses claps his hands together happily, climbing down off his chair and turning his whole plate over. Charity sighs, picking it up and dumping it into the sink. Her hands are shaking and she steadies them against the counter before turning around and giving Vanessa a wide smile. 

“You’ll come?”

Vanessa looks at the boys and then back at Charity. “If you’ll have me.”

_ I’ll never have anyone else _ , Charity thinks without meaning to. 

“Of course,” she says aloud.

Vanessa’s smile widens just slightly and then she’s reaching down, herding the boys towards the door while Charity follows behind them. It feels like any other day, out as a family. The boys run ahead as they cross the lane to the park and Vanessa holds back a step until she’s in line with Charity. Their arms swing at their sides, their hands brushing every so often.

It would be so easy to move away so they didn’t touch at all, she knows. It would be even easier to turn and lace her hands through Vanessa’s.

Except, Vanessa keeps looking at her like maybe she feels the same way and Charity isn’t sure what to do with that.

 

-

“Ready?” Vanessa asks, poking her head through the doorway.

Charity looks up from tying Moses’s trainer and nods. “Managed to wrangle the last little cow in, yeah?”

“We better get a move on if we want to make the dinosaur festival,” Vanessa says impatiently, tapping her watch.

Charity pauses, studying the small frown on impatience on Vanessa’s face. It’s familiar and warm and Charity soaks it in even as Vanessa turns it on her, tapping her toes for effect.

“What?” Vanessa asks, wiping at her cheeks. “Is there something on my face?”

“Yes,” Charity lies. She moves forward, swatting Vanessa’s hand out of the way and replacing it with her own. Vanessa’s cheek is warm - it might be fall but the chill hasn’t set in quite yet and the days are still long and bright. “Nearly got it…” she murmurs, her thumb brushing over the swell of Vanessa’s jaw. “There.”

Vanessa stares at her with wide eyes, her lips parting. “Charity, I-”

“Mum!” Noah shouts. “Moses swatted me with this… dinosaur thing.”

Vanessa looks away, stepping back quickly. “Boys,” she calls, turning away from Charity and slipping out of the living room. Charity follows, her hand pulsing where it had been touching Vanessa’s skin. “Let’s keep our dinosaur tails to ourselves, shall we?”

Moses pouts instantly, pushing his bottom lip out. “Ness,” he whines.

Charity pinches the top of his ear lightly and he jumps, colliding with Vanessa and holding onto her.

Vanessa laughs, the sound soft and bright and turns, shielding Moses from Charity’s reach. “It’s alright, my darling. I’ve got you.”

Charity feels her stomach twist and drop. It’s like they never missed a beat - certainly not three years of their life together. Moses and Johnny flock to Vanessa, fluttering at knee level and pulling her attention in a hundred different directions, like they always have. Vanessa laughs, throwing her head back and catching Charity’s eyes, like she always does. If this was before - before Vanessa said she couldn’t remember, before the world dropped out from under all of them - Charity would let Vanessa look back and reach and-

Vanessa’s arm drops to her side with a soft  _ thud _ .

Charity stares at her while Vanessa stares down at her hand, palm flat and fingers spread, holding it up against the light as if she’s never seen it before.

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa murmurs, just loud enough for Charity to hear over the boys yammering on.

“For what?” Charity asks, already knowing the answer. She saw Vanessa’s hand, reaching back. She saw the way Vanessa stopped Moses from pulling her along and the way she reached for Charity to pull her in; she’s seen it a hundred times before.

“For…” Vanessa trails off.

It’s been happening, more. Snippets of  _ something  _ popping up and into Vanessa’s eyes, shrouding them for a moment before they fade away again and Vanessa hides away. 

“She said she remembered by Bypass crash,” Noah had said the other night, passing her a slice of pizza.

Charity had snorted. “Who doesn’t remember that bloody car crash?”

“That’s not all, though,” Noah continued excitedly. “There’s been other things, too. She made me tea the other day and it was just as I like it.”

Charity narrowed her eyes at him, studying the excitement on his face. She didn’t want to let him down, but she’d never do him any good by letting him get his hopes up. “She wrote them down, babes. After the last time, when she put four sugars in my tea.” 

Noah had deflated, that ever-present look of defeat stretching across his face. It’d been growing worse and worse lately, each time he came home -  _ home _ , Charity had thought bitterly.  _ The pub. Not home _ \- from an afternoon with Vanessa, going over the small, everyday facts of her life.

In one of her weaker moments, with her hand on a bottle of whisky, she’d asked him if Vanessa ever said anything about her, about  _ them _ .

Noah’s silence was answer enough.

“For what?” Charity pushes now.

Vanessa shakes her head. “For a second I thought…” she trails off and meets Charity’s eyes, giving a nervous laugh. “Silly old me, it was nothing.”

“Vanessa,” Charity breathes, stepping closer.

Vanessa takes a step back, her smile flickering on her face. “Shall we get on, then?”

Charity swallows back her disappointment and nods, tipping her head down the lane. The dinosaur festival, in Hotten, was due to start in an hour. The boys picked it, earlier in the week, as their weekend trip.

_ A weekend trip _ , Charity thinks, trying to fight the bitterness that seeps into her thoughts.  _ Like one, big, happy family, we are _ . Johnny and Moses dance in circles around them, clutching large cloth tails Vanessa had sewn for them. 

“I didn’t lose that, then,” Vanessa declared proudly a few weeks ago. “Pearl was grateful, at least. Means she doesn’t have to teach me all over again, doesn’t it?”

Noah huffs and puffs but follows after Vanessa like a duckling, right at her heels, mouth moving a mile a minute. Ryan is due to meet them out in Hotten after he got out of work. Debbie and the kids might even stop by later, if they had the time. The whole family, still meeting once a week, even if Vanessa didn’t remember them all.

Charity tries to shake herself out of the spiraling thoughts. Vanessa  _ has _ been doing better, remembering things here and there. Sometimes, Vanessa slips up and says something Charity is sure she hadn’t wanted to say, but only Noah gets excited now, cataloging each moment like he’s a taking inventory of the memories Vanessa is building back up. It’s not just what she says, though; it’s the way she looks at Charity.

Like she’s trying to figure out what she saw in Charity to begin with.

Like she’s trying to figure out if it’s worth learning all over again.

The touches, too, have slipped into something more familiar. 

Vanessa  _ reaches _ for her now. 

In the car when Johnny or Moses tells a knock knock joke that doesn’t quite land, she drops her hand over Charity’s, curling around her wrist as Charity drops her hand from the steering wheel. Her hand slides over Charity’s palm, their fingers laced together, and she laughs and laughs at the boys, only letting go when Charity needs to make a turn. 

At the park when they’re chasing the boys around the structures, playing hide and seek, she presses close to Charity behind the slide, her hands on either side of Charity’s hips as she holds her in place. Charity can feel Vanessa breathing against her neck, her whole front trembling against Charity’s back, fading away as Moses finds them. 

Late at night when they’ve tucked the boys into bed after a long day out and about, Vanessa leans into her side for a moment, heavy with a tiredness that comes only after chasing toddlers around from sunup to sundown. Charity tries to remember not to breathe, too afraid to remind Vanessa to put some space between them.

“I’m confused,” Tracy told her one night when Vanessa scampered off to the washroom, complaining about the mud mask Moses and Johnny had tried to give her.. “Don’t you  _ want _ her to do those things?”

Charity shook her head, trying to make Tracy understand. “I don’t want her to remember just the…” She’d stopped and laughed, bitter and unforgiving. “I don’t want her to remember just the physical stuff, yeah? I want her to remember…”

“All of it,” Tracy finished when Charity couldn’t.

Charity nodded, her eyes burning and her lips pulled in to stem the flow of tears she could feel building. “Is that selfish?”

Tracy scooted closer, wrapping her arm around Charity, hooking her chin on Charity’s shoulder. “Course not,” Tracy whispered.

Charity nodded. “I want her back,” she breathed.

“She’s coming,” Tracy promised. “I can feel it, can’t I?”

“I hope so, kid,” Charity said, leaning her head against Tracy’s.

Vanessa had cleared her throat, then, standing in the doorway wringing her hands together. “The boys are down, so I best…” She didn’t quite meet Charity’s eyes, poking her thumb over her shoulder. “I best get on. Tell Johnny I’ll get him in the morning, yeah?”

“Charity?” Vanessa asks.

Charity jumps, eyes wide. “Wear a bell,” she hisses, her hand at her throat.

“I thought you heard me,” Vanessa says, fighting a laugh. She reaches for Charity again, pulling her hand from her throat and holding it between her own. “I said your name just about a hundred times.”

“Well, you know me,” Charity murmurs.

Vanessa goes quiet, dropping Charity’s hand.

Charity looks up with a sigh. “It’s a figure of-”

“I know what it is,” Vanessa says impatiently. “You don’t need to-”

“Treat you like a glass slipper. I’ve got it, don’t I?” Charity sighs again, reaching for Vanessa’s hand again. She hadn’t realized how often she touched Vanessa; not until she couldn’t. “

Vanessa pulls her hand form Charity’s slowly, sliding it into the pocket of her body warmer.

“Excuse me,” someone calls.

Vanessa jumps back, doubling the distance between their bodies. She holds a hand up against the sunlight, squinting. “Yes?”

A man smiles warmly at Vanessa, barely giving Charity a passing glance. “I hear your the veterinarian to talk to about reptiles? Mr. Kirk, in the office, said you were just headed out but I might be able to catch you quickly.”

Vanessa tips her head to the side, thinking. “I am,” she says slowly, nearly unsure.

The man moves closer, pointing back towards his car. “I’ve got a bearded dragon, Bartholomew, whose in a sickly way. Mr. Kirk didn’t seem keen on treating him.”

Charity snorts. “Because a bearded dragon has more hair than Paddy, doesn’t it?”

Vanessa looks at Charity, a small smile on her face. “A bearded dragon doesn’t  _ actually _ have any hair.”

Charity puts her hands up in mock surrender. “Excuse me, babe.”

The man clears his throat.

“Right,” Vanessa says sharply.

Charity watches her shift into Vanessa, the vet. Her shoulders straighten confidently and her eyes are keen, taking in every detail. It’s a shift from the Vanessa Charity has seen lately: doubtful and hesitant. 

“Tell me a bit about him,” Vanessa says. “But make it quick? I’m on a… family trip.”

Something twists in Charity’s stomach and she stops listening to the conversation.  _ A family trip _ , Vanessa had said. Except, it’s not. If it were a family trip, Noah would be shouting at them to shift their backsides and get a move on. If it were a family trip, Charity would ignore him, kissing Vanessa once last time before they got in the car. If it were a family trip, they’d hold hands in the car and at the festival and they’d likely dump the boys on Noah and Ryan for a quick snog somewhere.

But Vanessa still sits a bit too far away for Charity to reach her and it feels more like a chaperoned outing for the boys than it does a  _ family  _ trip.

“Maybe we could grab a coffee?” the man asks, still not spaing Charity a glance.. “Chat about Bartholomew a bit, so the next time I don’t have to drive into Hotten?”

Vanessa hesitates, eyes cutting back towards Charity.

“Here,” the man says, handing Vanessa a business card. She turns it over in her hands, looking at the small writing. “Christopher,” he says.

“Vanessa.”

“Charity,” Charity adds, her voice cold. “I’ll be in the car.” She turns and stalks towards the car, ignoring the way Noah is pressed the window, soaking in the scene.

“Charity,” Vanessa starts, following after her. Charity look over her shoulder, watching Christopher slip into his car. Vanessa swallows, her throat bobbing as she tries again to speak. “Charity,” she manages.

“Don’t,” Charity says, the words harder than she wants them to be. She tries to soften them, taking deep, measured breaths before speaking again. “You owe me nothing, yeah?”

“I’m not going to call him,” Vanessa insists.

“Doesn’t matter to me if you do,” Charity dismisses, the lie sticking to the roof of her mouth. “So far as you know, we’re not-”

“Stop it,” Vanessa whispers harshly. 

“Maybe we do need to stop this,” Charity says. She knows it’s not what Vanessa meant, but there’s a large gaping hole in the center of her chest that’s smarting right now, pain spiking through her body with each step she takes away from Vanessa.

“That’s not what I-”

“It’s only fair,” Charity says over Vanessa. “To me. To you. To the kids. We’re not… we’re not a family anymore. Best we stopped trying to act like one.” She nods sharply. “Reckon it’ll only hurt them in the end, won’t it.”

Vanessa stomps her foot in the soft dirt of the car park. “Charity,  _ stop it _ .”

Charity takes a large step backwards, her hands in her pockets. “You go on. Take the boys to Hotten. You’ll have Ryan and Noah for help. They’ll make sure Moses and Johnny don’t burn through your spending money.” She takes another step back, feeling the distance between them stretch uncomfortably.

“Charity,” Vanessa tries again.

“We’ve been pushing it, eh?” Charity shrugs a shoulder, moving back as Vanessa pushes forward. “Trying to pick this up like you remember. Like I’m not…” She forces a smile. “Do you remember what I told you, in the bathroom the night you…”

“That I couldn’t trust me dad?” Vanessa says, trying for a smile.

Charity doesn’t take the bait. “I told you what you told me: Don’t tell me you’re okay when you’re not.” She inhales sharply, feeling the cool air fill her lungs. It still burns. “This isn’t okay, Vanessa. I’m… I’m not okay with this.”

“So what?” Vanessa demands. “We stop seeing each other?”

“I care about you,” Charity says softly. “Quite a bit, actually. And that’s not something you’ll hear every day from me. Or at all. But…” She shrugs. “But this isn’t good. Not for either of us.” She looks to the car, at Noah’s face pressed against the window and Johnny and Moses, barely visible in their seats. “I still want Johnny to-” She stops herself, meeting Vanessa’s eyes. “I mean, if you don’t want him to see me anymore, I… I understand.”

“No,” Vanessa says, shaking her head.

Charity isn’t sure she mean  _ No, of course I won’t keep Johnny from you _ , but Charity takes it that way, shaping each part of the conversation for her own benefit. She forces a wide smile that she drops just as quickly and nods her head sharply. “Until you’re ready - until you’re  _ really _ ready, we should just go back to how it was.”

_ I want to go back to how it was _ , a part of Charity screams.

Vanessa shakes her head, her eyes red and wet in the corners. “I’m  _ trying _ ,” she whispers.

“Oh, babe.” Charity blinks hard to clear the tears from her eyes, her hands aching to touch Vanessa now; to wipe away the tears that start streaming down her face. “Of course you are.” She takes another step back before she turns on her heel.

“But I can’t anymore,” she whispers.

 

-

The door slams open with a loud  _ bang _ and everyone falls silent, looking up from their plates.

Charity moves first, putting down her wine glass quickly and stepping over Johnny and Moses, coloring on the floor. “Vanessa?” she asks, the name sounding foreign in her mouth. It’s been weeks since she’s said it, forcing everything about Vanessa Woodfield from her mind. It’s been weeks since she’s seen her, days with Johnny reduced to Tracy or Megan or Frank - or a confused Aaron, once - darkening her door and bringing her boy back to her.

Vanessa looks around wildly, eyes red at the edges. “Johnny,” she pants.

“Is fine,” Charity says quickly, stepping back so Vanessa can see him, lying on his stomach with a crayon in each hand. “Has been all night.”

Vanessa shakes her head. “Pierce was-” She claps her hand over her mouth, staggering back against the door. “I remember Pierce was going to hurt him.”

“Pierce?” Debbie asks.

Vanessa blinks a few times, her eyes clearing. She looks around the room, meeting Charity’s eye for a moment before she looks at Ryan and Noah. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

Moses climbs to his feet, running towards Vanessa with a wide smile on his face. Charity reaches for him but he ducks under her arm, crashing into Vanessa’s legs with an  _ oof _ . “Ness!”

Charity is quick to follow him, scooping him up and dropping him onto the couch. He rolls into Noah’s lap and giggles happily. Vanessa is still standing, eyes still wide and hands still shaking.

“Babe, he’s fine,” Charity promises. “Might have overeaten a bit, but he’s-”

“Adam nearly hurt him. And-and Kirin was going to hurt him,” Vanessa interrupt. “And Pierce was going to hurt him. And now I-”

“Would  _ never _ hurt him,” Charity says firmly. She takes a careful step closer, hands up in front of her so Vanessa can follow all of her movements. “Of course you wouldn’t. You love him, eh? More than anything.”

“I love him,” Vanessa repeats.

“That’s right,” Charity says gently. “You love him.”

Moses toddles closer again, slipping under Charity’s arm, and thrusts his Chase stuffed toy up into Vanessa’s hands. He curls them around the Paw Patrol toy, patting her gently on the wrists when she complies. “There,” he says proudly. “You better.”

Vanessa looks down at him and her face crumples, her eyes welling instantly and her mouth hanging open in a silent sob.

“Okay,” Charity coos, moving forward quickly. She catches Vanessa around the middle, holding her close. The touch is easier, now, and Vanessa sinks into it. “Okay, babe. Come on.” She shuffles backwards as Noah and Ryan scramble up off the couch, giving them space to settle into the cushions. Vanessa curls into her instantly, her hand clenching Charity’s blouse and twisting it as her tears wet Charity’s collarbone.

“Johnny, Moses,” Debbie calls softly. “Let’s go into the bar and see if Marlon’ll make us some dessert, yeah?” She shoos them both out of the living room, looking back at Charity over her shoulder. 

“We’ll be out there, too,” Ryan says, shoving at Noah.

Noah digs his heels in, looking at Vanessa with wide, aching eyes. “Mum, she-”

“Go on, babes,” Charity tells him. “Go with your brother. And don’t let him have too much, yeah? He’s a lousy drunk.”

“Must be genetic,” Ryan fires back, a smile on his face. 

Noah swallows hard and starts to shake his head, but nods at Vanessa instead. “You’ll take care of her?” he whispers.

“Of course I will,” she promises.

Vanessa is still clutching on to her, fingernails still digging into the soft skin just below Charity’s collarbone, shaking. She sucks in large gulps of air that don’t go down enough to fill her lungs and when she pulls back, there’s panic in her eyes.

“Breathe, Vanessa,” Charity says sharply. 

Vanessa tries. She manages half a lungful of air before she’s choking again, bent over Charity’s lap.

Charity sits her up and grabs her face, holding it between her hands. Vanessa’s eyes are wide and frantic, moving too quickly to keep track of. “Vanessa,” Charity says again, firmer than before. “I love you.”

Vanessa stops, still for a long moment before she blinks again, her eyes refocusing and lingering on Charity’s. “You what?” she asks.

“I love you,” Charity says again, her voice faltering on the middle word. “You know that, yeah?”

Tears are still moving down Vanessa’s cheeks, over and off her chin onto Charity’s wrists. They’re soaking the sleeve of her blouse, but she can’t care now; not when Vanessa is staring at her, unbelieving.

“I don’t remember,” Vanessa admits. 

“I know,” Charity says. “But it doesn’t change that I do.”

Vanessa shakes her head. “I  _ want _ to remember,” she insists. “Everything feels empty. When you walked away, it’s like you took something away from me, only I can’t remember  _ what _ and I can’t remember  _ why _ and the only thing I want more than you back is to  _ remember _ .”

“Babe, I know-”

“No,” Vanessa interrupts. “You don’t know. You don’t know how badly I want to remember. I want to remember it so, so badly. Everyone else does. The kids -  _ our kids _ . They remember. And I can’t. I want to, but I can’t and-”

“Slow down,” Charity says, her thumb brushing over Vanessa’s cheekbones. “You don’t have to remember right now, yeah?”

“What if I never remember?” Vanessa asks, her chest hitching in a sob. “What if I never get my memories back?”

“Then we make new ones, if you want,” Charity whispers. “Or-or we reinvent the old ones.”

Vanessa hiccups again, nose wrinkling. “We what?”

Charity’s thumbs sweeps down, just below Vanessa’s bottom lip. “Hang fire, babe.” She rifles through the kitchen drawers, emptying the silver before she finds what she’s looking for. Noah had found it months ago, holding it by the string on one finger cautiously. Charity had meant to throw it out, but stashed it instead one morning so Paddy didn’t sweep it up and throw it in the bin during his poor attempt at a spring clean.

It’s a bit faded, years later, but it’s still the same yellow mask Vanessa had worn that first night in the cellar.

Charity holds it up now, giving Vanessa a hopeful smile. “Here,” she breathes.

Vanessa frowns, wiping at her wet eyes. “A superhero mask?”

“Our first kiss,” Charity explains. “You had it on. Finn’s funeral was themed. Bit naff, if you ask me, but…” She shrugs, sitting back down on the couch with one leg curled under her body. “Reckon it worked in my favor.”

Vanessa is still staring at the mask. “I wore this?”

“Super Sloshed Girl,” Charity breathes out, sliding closer. She stretches the elastic band, sliding it down over the top of Vanessa’s head. The mask rests on Vanessa’s forehead and Charity’s stomach turns. They’re not in the cellar, but Vanessa’s eyes are the same kind of hazy, the same kind of confused.

“Charity,” Vanessa starts.

“I wanted you to notice me,” Charity admits. She smiles quickly, slipping her fingers behind the mask and pulling it forward, snapping it down over Vanessa’s eyes. She curls one finger under Vanessa’s chin, tipped her head up. “I’ve been trying to get you to notice me.” 

Vanessa’s lips are warm, parting easily under Charity’s. She kisses back instantly, her hands at Charity’s shoulders as she pulls her closer. Charity feels like she’s on fire - burning where Vanessa’s body meets hers. She moves closer still, edging Vanessa back against the couch the way she eased her back against the chair in the cellar years ago. She kisses Vanessa until her lungs ache and then she pulls back, resting her forehead against Vanessa’s. She inhales shakily, trying to catch her breath, but Vanessa pushes forward again, kissing her hard. Her hand shake as they move across Charity’s skin, curling behind her neck and pulling her close.

“I…” Vanessa trails off. 

Charity shakes her head, pressing her lips to point of Vanessa’s cheeks. “It’s okay,” she whispers, her stomach sinking. “It’s okay.”

Vanessa grabs Charity’s hand, pulling it flush against her chest. Charity’s fingers splay out against the fabric of Vanessa’s jumper, feeling her heart pulse under her hand. “This.  _ This _ remembers.”

“Vanessa,” Charity starts, trying to pull her hand back. 

Vanessa shakes her head firmly. “It does. My head doesn’t,” she repeats, her words an echo from the night in the bathroom. “But everything else in me does, Charity Dingle.” She rests her forehead against Charity’s. “It remembers amazing, wonderful you.”

Charity feels a sob rise in her throat and catch. “You-”

“I’ve said that before, haven’t I?” Vanessa whispers.

Charity nods. “Once or twice, yeah.” She laughs, the noise something between a sob and giggle. 

“I know that I don’t… know,” Vanessa says. Her hand flexes over Charity’s, still pressed against her chest. “But I’ll learn. I can learn.”

“Vanessa,” Charity sighs.

“I’ve done it once,” Vanessa pushes on. “Suppose it won’t be so hard to do it again, will it?”

Charity scoffs lightly. “Might be easier, at least.”

Vanessa kisses her, soft and sweet and Charity wants  _ more _ just as Vanessa pulls away. “Reckon I wasn’t the one taking their time, was I?”

“Are you sure you don’t remember anything?” Charity teases.

Vanessa’s eyes darken. “I wish that I did,” she says.

“I wish you did too,” Charity admits. She smiles tightly. “We’ll sort it, if you want to. Take it slow, too.”

Vanessa stares at her for a long moment, her eyes searching Charity’s. “Did we take it slow the first time?”

“We took it…” Charity hesitates, working her bottom lip between her teeth. “We took it backwards.”

Vanessa nods slowly. “Maybe this is our second chance to get it right. I… I want to get it right.”

Charity studies Vanessa’s face, trying to blend the Vanessa in front of her with the one from before. The one who knew all of her secrets; who pushed her to unlock parts of herself she’d hidden away for years; who made her feel safe and loved and wanted. There’s a hint of it, somewhere in there, if Charity stares long enough, and she holds onto it, tightening her grip on Vanessa’s jumper.

“Show me, then,” she breathes, leaning in for a kiss.


End file.
